


Wings

by CookiesOnlyWithCream



Series: Wings [2]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV), The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Angst, Gen, Mentioning of Blood, Parabatai Bond, Self Confidence Issues, Sibling Bonding, Winged!AU, Wings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-11
Updated: 2017-02-11
Packaged: 2018-09-23 15:27:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9663542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CookiesOnlyWithCream/pseuds/CookiesOnlyWithCream
Summary: Wings have always been important to Shadowhunters.They make them stronger, faster, greater...but to some they mean so much more.A collection of insights into the meaning of wings.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So I'm back with another Oneshot or several of them.  
> I feel like I spent too much time researching different birds for this...  
> And I'm sorry this is angsty again, I'll write something happier in the future, I promise!
> 
> Feel free to leave kudos and comments, I appreciate all of them <3  
> And of course feel free to tell me if you find any mistakes or have an idea for this AU that I should wirte about.  
> Until then, enjoy :) <3

As long as Alec remembers everyone’s always told him how important wings are.

“Our wings make us to who we are, Alec,” he remembers the voice of his parents “They’re what makes us stronger, faster, greater than everyone else. They make us _superior_.”

“The first time your wings break out will change you.”

“Once you fly for the first time, there won’t be anything else that is comparable to it. Flying lets you feel things you’ve never felt before.”

“Your wings will be extraordinary, like all the Lightwoods'.”

“When you finally have wings you’re going to be a real shadowhunter, a real soldier.”

 

Yet here he is, lying on his stomach in his bed, facing his first break-out and all he feels is pain and fear. What if his wings aren’t like they are supposed to be? What if they are too small, too weak, too _normal_? What if they don’t fulfil his parents’ imagination what a Lightwood’s wings should look like?

And through all his fears cuts the horrible pain shooting through his back, his head and all his limbs. His spine feels like it might split in half any second and Alec is pretty sure that his shoulder blades are broken in too many tiny pieces to be ever fixed again.

His _voyance_ and _angelic rune_ , both only drawn on him a few days ago, are burning, sending hot waves through his body. They seem to glow, standing out even more against his pale skin.

As another wave of pain rushes through him, Alec bites his lip until he tastes blood. He strangles the pillow, on which his head is resting, until his knuckles turn white.

His mother is sitting next to him on the edge of the bed, stroking a few dark strands of hair, damp from sweat, out of his forehead.

“It’ll be over soon, _cariño_ ,” she soothes, running her fingers through his hair gently, a concerned yet reassuring expression on her face.

Alec hears his bones cracking and feels his skin bursting, warm blood running down his sides and his back.

And then there’s the sound of sticky feathers rustling against each other, his body trying to move the newborn muscles and unfurl the weight that is resting on his torso now. Alec can’t help but let out a relieved sigh, he’s shivering from exhaustion but finally the pain is wearing off, only a dull ache in his bones and muscles remains.

“I am so proud of you,” Maryse murmurs, “Look at your wings. Look how beautiful they are!”

Slowly, Alec rises from the mattress, needing a moment or two to grow familiar with the new weight on his back and finding his balance.

He makes his way across the room to the large mirror and looks at his reflection. The view of him is familiar and yet strange at the same time.

He looks at himself; bare-chested in his pyjama pants, seeming so small at the sight of the huge wings that slowly start to unfurl, the feathers still sticking together with half-dried blood.

His feathers are coloured in different shades of dark grey to black, the primary colour looking like slate, his wings shaped like those of a falcon.

Light coloured spots are scattered all across his plumage, making it look like snowflakes in front of a dark night sky.

The lower feathers of his wings are fading into a brighter gray further down to the tips.

Alec turns around, looking over his back into the mirror, watching the top of his wings. Although most parts are still covered in blood, he spots the completely dark feathers shimmering under it in the light.

Like obsidian they glisten in different shades of black, blue and grey, taking Alec’s breath away.

Delicately he brushes his fingers over the feathers, feeling their silky material underneath his fingertips.

He turns around to look at his parents, meeting their proud smiles and letting his mother embrace him in a tight hug, while his father ruffles his hair.

“Look at them! So strong, so large. You’re going to be such a great shadowhunter with them,” his mother coos.

“You make us so proud,” his father endorses her, “Carrying on the family honour.”

Alec can’t help the feeling of being proud of himself, a huge grin slowly spreading across his face.

His parents are right, now he’s going to be a real shadowhunter.

A warm feeling spreads in his stomach; all his worries and fears have vanished. His wings turned out how they are supposed to be. Strong, huge and _beautiful_.

 

It’s later in his life that Alec finds out that those wings do not only bring advantages with them.

It’s later in his life that he finds out about their real importance to him, that they become an anchor in his darkest hours.

And it’s later in his life that these wings will help him to grow into the man he is, the leader, husband, father.

And it’s always this feeling of the first time seeing his wings that he’ll keep safe in his soul.

 

_***_

 

When they first met Clary, she was some kind of marvel to them. A shadowhunter, no doubt, but she didn’t know anything about the shadow world nor had she worn runes. But what Jace memorized most were his thoughts when she had explained that she’d never even heard about something like people with wings being real. Not to imagine that she herself should have wings.

Confusion did not capture his feelings in the least.

 

Wings were always a part of Jace’s life. At first, it was his father who told him everything about them, showed his own ones to Jace and drilled into him that his first break out would be the most important day, that his wings decided about the rest of his life. It was drilled into him that if his wings would not fit the expectations of his father he would bring shame upon himself and would not be considered worthy of being a shadowhunter.

Later in the New York institute he has always been surrounded by Shadowhunters bearing wings, scared that he would not fit in there, that his wings would not turn out how they were supposed to be.

Hell, there were nights where he was afraid he just didn’t have wings!

But then there was Alec, only a year older than Jace, who somehow took the responsibility for this new boy and showed him around, helped him through that difficult time.

Alec taught him that his wings did not have to be perfect, that _he_ didn’t have to be perfect.

He showed Jace his wings, almost black but shimmering in the light in a hundred different shades, showed him how he struggled to control them and still had to learn how to use them.

And after a few months it was: “It doesn’t matter if your wings are too small or ugly or are looking like the ones of a sparrow, Jace! We Lightwoods stick together, no matter what!” while little Izzy nodded seriously.

And Jace believed them.

Shortly after he had his break out he asked Alec to become _parabatai_. He had agreed.

 

So a shadowhunter without wings had been unimaginable for Jace, and not alone Jace; Alec had disliked Clary from the start. She was different, an abnormality who had turned their world upside down.

After a while and a visit to the Silent City, they figured out that since Clary hadn’t received her first runes yet and with a little help of Magnus Bane, High Warlock of Brooklyn, her wings simply hadn’t broken out yet, but soon enough would do so.

Which led to the current events.

One moment before they planned to rescue Clary’s mundie friend Simon, now Jace is pacing around Clary’s room in the institute.

“I can handle this alone. You have to get Simon before – “ Clary doesn’t get to finish her sentence. An agonizing scream escapes her as another wave of pain seems to roll over her body.

Jace stops dead in his tracks and turns to face her.

“There’s no way I’m letting you deal with this alone, Clary!” Jace insists sternly “I know, you think you know what you’re getting into but – this is not the worst part yet and for you it’ll be even worse because you’re older than we were. Trust me, you’ll need someone to get you through this.”

“But you can’t let Simon stay with the vampires longer than needed! He was _kidnapped_ by them! You don’t know what they’ll do with him and I won’t let them harm him! If you’re not going to save him, I swear, I don’t care about how much this hurts, I’ll go and get him myself,” Clary hisses through gritted teeth.

Jace shares a quick concerned look with his siblings.

Alec raises one eyebrow, arms crossed and looking like he might want to murder someone.

“Well maybe, if you two“ he gazes directly at Jace “wouldn’t have insisted on going to the Silent City – which by the way was the worst idea you had in months considering all the laws we broke – we wouldn’t be in this situation now.”

“Maybe if Isabelle had looked after Simon like she was supposed to do, the vampires couldn’t have gotten him!”

“You’re not going to talk to her like that! She isn’t your mundane’s babysitter! He shouldn’t have been there! That’s the point! You think you can come here, bossing everyone around. But you just don’t think about the consequences! It’s your fault, not Izzy’s! So excuse me that I do not take your commands and break another law to – “

“Alec! By the angel, stop it!” Jace shouts furiously. “It’s not Izzy’s fault, but it’s not Clary’s fault either! Stop blaming her all the time just because you don’t like her!”

“ _Jace!_ ” This time it is Izzy who’s stepping in. “All of you need to calm down. Now! Jace, you’ll stay with Clary while Alec and I are going to figure out how to get into the Hotel.”

With that she drags Alec with her out of the room, shutting the door behind them and leaving Jace and Clary alone.

Jace takes a deep breath and closes his eyes for a second.

“I’m sorry,” he hears Clary saying. “I didn’t mean to cause all of this trouble for you.”

Jace turns to her.

“Don’t apologize. I don’t blame you.” He starts walking towards her where she’s sitting on the bed, shoulders hunched, elbows on her knees. Her lips are bitten and Jace can’t tell if it’s because of the pain of her break out or if it’s the stress she’s going through at the moment.

He crouches down in front of her and looks up, his mismatched gaze meeting hers.

“Hey, I’m sorry for Alec being this way; usually he doesn’t act like this. I don’t know what’s gotten into him but I promise you, he’ll help us get Simon back. I trust him.”

“How can you be so sure about this?”

“Well, apart from Izzy and Alec being like brother and sister to me, Alec and I are _parabatai_. There’s no human bond to compare to what Alec and I have. We’re bound together for life, bound to fight together, to protect each other. In battle, our hearts beat as one. If one of us were to die a part of the other would die inside as well. He is going to help us.”

For a moment Clary seems to be distant, thinking.

“So you’re some kind of soulmates or –?”

A quiet laugh escapes Jace.

“Something like that; but by choice. There is no fate or power beyond nature that determined our bond. Actually, I was the one who asked Alec shortly after he talked me through my break out. Since then, he’s been there for me. He won’t leave me in the lurch now.”

Clary relaxes a bit at his words but tenses not a second after it again. A low whimper slips through her gritted teeth and she hunches her shoulders even more. Jace takes her hand squeezes it gently.

“I’m here, Clary, I got you.”

“It hurts!” she whimpers, another wave of pain rippling through her, the sound of bones cracking echoing from the high ceiling.

Jace can’t help the feeling of helplessness and being out of place. How had Alec managed to get him through his break out back then? It had seemed so easy to him!

“I got you,” he repeats “You can do this, you’re strong enough. And I know this hurts but you have to get through it! It’ll be over soon.”

Clary nods, determination written all over her face. Jace admires her for it. She’s been thrown into this only a few days ago, her whole world has been turned upside down, she's found out her father is alive and a murderer and that her mother had told her nothing but lies her whole life. Yet here she is, fighting against the pain for her best friend who got kidnapped. To save him. How could Jace not admire her?

And slowly, at the back of his mind, a thought is building that if she decides to stay with them after all this trouble, that if she wants to, after she gets her mother back, she would be an extraordinary shadowhunter.

 

When Jace sees her wings shortly after it, reddish brown and spotted white, shaped like the ones of a bird of prey, this thought takes more and more shape.

 

_***_

 

Izzy’s standing on the roof of the Institute, the city of New York lying beneath her and she is staring into the darkness. Thoughts turmoil in her mind.

She unfurls her dark grey white-patterned wings and flings herself into the air. Her powerful wings taking her up and up and up.

The first tears start to gather in her eyes as she’s soaring high above the ground, unseen by mundane eyes. She wipes them away carelessly.

She is Isabelle Lightwood, she is stronger than this, she won’t cry!

Not because her parents are trying to decide over her life! Not because they are forcing Alec and her to restore the family honour and the Lightwood name which they dragged down in the past!

But still it affects her. That she isn’t good enough for them, that no matter what she does, she’ll never get to satisfy her mother’s high expectations of her.

She’s always told herself that she won’t ruin her own life for her parents, not for anyone, but looking at herself now, she almost wants to laugh out loud in her bitterness. She broke up with Meliorn, literally changed everything about herself to fit her mother’s imagination and still she isn’t enough.

Izzy remembers a past where her mother defended her children like a lioness against anybody who would harm them, loving and caring for all of them equally. Now she’s the one causing the damage ruthlessly.

And of course it is Isabelle who suffers most underneath her strictness. Neither is she her mother’s ‘golden boy’ like Jace nor acting-head of the Institute like Alec. She is the family disappointment with the way she expresses herself, her connections to the Downworld, standing up for her beliefs of what is right and what is wrong and apparently in her mother’s eyes ‘wrong ideals’.

And she is so _angry_! At her parents, at Alec for not seeing what they are trying to do to him, at herself.

She tried so hard, but it wasn’t enough. She swore to stay true to herself and she broke that oath not only 24 hours ago.

‘It still won’t be enough,’ whispers a voice in her mind, dragging those doubts and self-loathing up from the depth and Izzy tries and tries to push it back down but it stays, feeding itself from her noisy thoughts and stirred up feelings.

A tight knot builds in her throat and she can hear her own heartbeat fasten, her blood pounding in her ears, as ‘not enough, not enough, not enough’ repeats in her head over and over again.

It’s enough to let her burst out in tears.

There, another word she can’t hold. Another fact that lets her again laugh out loud in bitterness.

Lost in her mind, she didn’t realize that she is now high above the clouds, skimming across the night sky, her way guided by the lonely stars.

Isabelle inhales the clean, cold air deeply, closes her eyes and lets go of her thoughts, carries herself away with her wings, farther and farther away. Her wing's beats get steadier and calmer, cleaning her mind and lessening the ache in her chest.

She concentrates on nothing until the only sound she can hear is the smooth strokes of her wings, the only thing she senses is the cold airstream on her skin, the only thing she tastes and smells is the clean air, and the only thing she feels is the movement of her body.

Flying is always the easiest thing for her to let go of everything that boils deep inside her, it takes away all the tension that builds up insider her sometimes and helps her to get a new point of view on things or to order the chaos inside her mind.

It’s a trait she shares with her siblings and Izzy remembers the uncountable times the three of them just went for a flight after particularly stressful days, neither of them saying a word, just the presence of the others and their synchronized movements high up in the air calming all of them and releasing them from their troubles and worries.

It usually ended with all of them huddled up on Alec’s bed, talking about everything that’s been on their mind for hours until they fell asleep, curled up against each other and at ease.

That habit developed years ago, when all of them were younger, with short distances and grew with them over the years.

Nowadays they fly for hours until they grow tired, but they still have a sleep-over in Alec’s room and they still find comfort in each other.

Izzy could use this now with all this trouble around Clary and about Valentine being back, with her parents putting even more pressure on her, and her struggle to find her place again.

But Jace is too head over heels for Clary and Alec is troubled enough without her being another weight on his shoulders, so she has to deal with it alone this time.

So she stretches out her arms, takes a long, powerful stroke with her wings and lets go.

 

Isabelle doesn’t know how long she’s been in the air when her feet touch the ground hours later.

The sun slowly begins to rise at the horizon, colouring the whole city in shades of pink and red and orange.

Carefully, she folds her wings and runs her stele above the angelic rune, waiting for the power in her blood to work its magic and letting them disappear in her back, flesh and skin healing above the cuts effortlessly.

She lets out a quiet huff, straightens her gear and releases her hair from the braid she wears high on her head to comb quickly through it until she pulls it up into a new one.

After rolling her shoulders a few times to get rid of the last ounce of tension in her, she straightens herself.

Izzy takes a deep breath and starts walking towards the Institute’s entrance, bracing herself for the new day to come.

She is Isabelle Lightwood, she won’t break again.


End file.
